Ник Сайнт - Purrfect Revenge

Odelia wasn’t so sure. “What if he’s right and he didn’t do it?”

“Then we’re back to square one,” said Chase. “Why? You think he’s innocent?”

She chewed her lip. “Why would he keep the murder weapon in his closet for us to find? That just seems like a dumb move.”

“But we didn’t find it. At least not when we searched his room the first time. He probably hid it somewhere else, then when his room was cleared he moved it, waiting for us to leave so he could dispose of it permanently.”

“Yeah, that’s what I think happened, too,” said Uncle Alec with a nod.

“He always was a dumbass,” said Gran. “I’m glad he got caught.”

“We’re all glad he got caught,” said Mom. “Who’s ready for dessert?”

And while Mom brought out the key lime pie, Odelia figured Chase was probably right. Dion had simply put the cleaver in his closet so he could get rid of it as soon as possible. And if Max and Dooley hadn’t ended up tripping over it, he would have gotten away with murder. Which reminded her that Max and Dooley deserved a treat for the role they’d played. And Harriet and Brutus, too. She was glad the foursome were finally on the road to friendship. Especially Max and Brutus. She had a feeling they were going to be besties.

And then it was time for key lime pie. And more Kenspeckle gossip.

Chapter 15

The killer was caught so we could finally relax. That night, while the Pooles were sleeping peacefully, Dooley, Harriet and I snuck out. After all that hard work, it was time to have some fun. Odelia had given us some extra-special treats, and we were ready to sing our hearts out. You may think it’s weird that cats would join a choir, but to be honest it’s just an excuse to shoot the breeze. Hampton Cove Park is pretty quiet at night, which makes it perfect to do a little hunting, a little tittle-tattling and a little partying.

“Do you think Brutus will be nicer after Odelia’s speech?” asked Dooley.

“I think Brutus will be super-nice,” said Harriet. “We’re all friends now.”

She was in a great mood. The four of us being friends had been her dream all along, and now it was finally happening. I wasn’t so confident that Brutus was my friend now. Especially after what he told me: you’re going down. That didn’t sound like something a friend would say. At least I didn’t think so.

“It’s so great we caught the killer,” said Harriet, prancing gaily.

“It’s so great we caught the killer,” Dooley corrected her. “Max and I caught Dion, remember?”

“Yes, but Brutus helped, and since I’m his muse, I helped too.”

It was the kind of convoluted logic I had a hard time understanding. Taken to its conclusion, you could argue that the whole world had helped catch the killer, while in fact Dooley and I had done all the hard work. Of course you could argue that if Brutus hadn’t locked us up in the spa, we’d never have been forced to climb that pipe and end up in Dion Dread’s closet. Honestly, with that kind of reasoning you could prove pretty much anything.

“And I’m so glad that you and Brutus are going to be besties!” she cried.

Dooley and I shared a glance and shook our heads. Yeah, right.

We’d walked around Odelia’s house to the street and were now traipsing along, heading for the park. The moon was out and it was a beautiful night. One of those nights where humans like to bring out the barbecue set and the air is redolent with the smell of grilled meat, smoke and burned grease. Yum. But since it was way past midnight, the only scent I could pick up was ocean brine, the wind picking up a little. In spite of that, it was still warm out. The perfect night for cat choir. We crossed the street and found the park deserted, which was exactly the way we liked it. Humans tend to cramp our style.

“Brutus is such a great singer,” said Harriet. “I’m so curious to see what songs he’s got in line for us tonight. Don’t you feel that since he took over from Shanille we’ve improved so much? He’s a great conductor but an even greater coach. Sometimes I feel like he should be on The Voice Cats . He’s got Adam Levine’s focus and Blake Shelton’s heart and sense of humor and he’s really concerned about our musical development. I mean, he cares so much.”

On and on she prattled. Dooley and I couldn’t get a word in edgewise. Not that we tried to. When Harriet gushes about Brutus there’s no stopping her.

We entered the park and made our way to the venue we'd selected for cat choir practice. It was a small clearing with a few benches, which we used to set up the different voice types. You had your sopranos, your altos, your tenors and your basses. Personally I'd always felt I was an alto, but Brutus had dumped me in with the basses. I didn't like it. They didn't have an interesting score. Harriet, of course, was a soprano, and always got to sing the solos. She was our very own Kiri Te Kanawa. The people who lived around the park got to enjoy our nocturnal concerts, too. Though they didn't seem to appreciate them all that much. At least judging from all the abuse they hurled at us. And the shoes. Everyone's a critic, I guess.

As we padded up to the clearing, I saw Shanille was already there, and so were about a dozen of the regulars, all gabbing away to their heart’s content.

“Oh, there’s Brutus,” said Harriet, and she was about to streak forward when she noticed Brutus wasn’t alone. He was chatting with a gorgeous Siamese and a very red, very fat old cat who sat chewing on something.

“Hey, isn’t that Princess?” Dooley asked. “And look. There’s George.”

I nodded, transfixed. I liked Princess. In fact I liked her a lot. She was John Paul George's cat, the famous eighties pop singer who recently died at his Hamptons home. He'd lived there with his twelve cats, the oldest of which was George. The cats now lived with Johnny's boyfriend Jasper Pruce, who probably took even better care of them than Johnny had.

The fat cat caught sight of us and came waddling over, a big smile on his face. “Hey, you guys,” he said. George must have watched too many Marlon Brando movies, because he sounded like the actor’s character in The Godfather . “Princess told me you’ve got yourselves a genuine cat choir here, so I figured we might check you out. We already met your conductor. Brutus.”

I nodded, still staring at Princess. The moon lit up her white fur, and she looked even more gorgeous than I remembered. God, she was pretty.

“Welcome to the show, George,” Dooley said. “Are you going to join?”

“Nah. I have no singing talent whatsoever. Just thought I’d watch.”

George was a British cat, who’d come over from the old country along with John Paul George, when the latter had tried to make a career in America. He was probably the oldest cat I’d ever met, but he still looked great. Probably all that grade A cat food Jasper fed his menagerie.

While George and Dooley got reacquainted, I trotted over to Princess.

“Hi, Max,” she said in that sultry, smoky voice of hers.

“Hi, Princess,” I breathed. I couldn’t keep my eyes off her.

“You two know each other?” Brutus asked, sounding surprised.

“We met,” said Princess, and gave me a bright smile that melted my heart.

“I was just telling Princess I might let her sing the solo tonight,” Brutus said with a curious look in my direction.

“Oh, that’s so wonderful of you, Brutus,” said Princess. “I won’t disappoint you. I sat by John Paul George’s side for years, singing along. I like to think he drew inspiration from my presence. All artists need a muse, and I wouldn’t be surprised if I was his.”